Goodbye, Love
by marianna
Summary: Set after the events in the finale. Ensamble. One shot.


One event can change everything.

He appears before her every time she closes her eyes. It isn't just fear and it isn't pity that keeps her awake most nights; it's the look in his eyes. The one that's screaming help me, don't let me do this, I'm just a kid that got the short end of a very short stick-if I'd had a little love and less anal raping, I'd have turned out just fine. She hates him for taking advantage of her, hates him for hurting Mac, but most of all she wishes that she had a time machine to go back and fix things. Because she can almost guarantee that life would have turned out differently for Cassidy Casablancas if she could just go back and do a little altering.

The news of Cassidy's responsibility in the bus crash spreads through the town like wildfire, and no one felt he deserved a proper burial. The Casablancas name is run through the mud, and the surface isn't even looked beneath. It's an open and shut case-black and white, nice and simple. Except it isn't, and though she's also been victimized, Veronica can't help feeling sorry for the boy that could have been. So she goes to the memorial. Logan thinks she's crazy, but doesn't stop her, though she can't say she blames him for not attending himself. It's sparsely populated with only Dick and the preacher in attendance and though neither looks her in the eye, she knows they're surprised to see her there. It's the only time she's ever seen Dick cry, his shoulders shaking in the dark fabric of his rented suit jacket. Afterwards she can't avoid him.

"Th-thanks for coming, Veronica. He would've-" He pauses, too tired to even turn away as he wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes. "Was gonna say he would've liked that," He mumbles under his breath, and her breath catches as she realizes he's breaking right in front of her, and there's nothing she can do. "But I don't-I don't even know-Anyway, thanks for coming, I guess. I appreciate it." He smiles tightly, the wind ruffling his streaked blonde locks, and all at once she realizes that he's all alone. No younger brother to torment, no warm body to share a house with, no family. Her heart breaks a little for him, and she's surprised at herself when her fingers splay over his arm.

"I'm so _sorry_, Dick." She murmurs, glancing across the cemetery to her car where she can just faintly make out Logan's outline. He hasn't forgiven Beaver, can't fathom why she felt this driving urge to go and pay her respects, but wouldn't let her go alone. He hasn't let her out of his sight much, and though she knows she should want more space, demand her time to grow, prepare for the lesbian experimenting that is surely waiting for her in a few months time, but she doesn't. She likes being with him, and hopes that she can one day love him as much as he loves her.

"Thanks." He can't even look at her anymore, his eyes sad and guarded as he glances down, his eyes boring into the marble of his brother's headstone. "You should never have to bury someone younger, y'know?" He calls back to her, after he's walked a few feet and the soles of his shoes have sunk into the grass. "It makes you feel really… old." He's gone before she can respond, and she can feel the tears pricking her eyes again.

"Explain to me again why you felt the need to do that?" His voice isn't exactly angry as they speed out of the parking lot, but his tone is clipped, and taking a hand from the steering wheel, she wraps her fingers around his.

"He was a lost kid, Logan. He shouldn't have died the way he did." She's surprised at how accepting she is. Up on that roof, she'd been more than happy to blame Beaver for everything, hate him for doing what he'd done; but now…now she can't. She can't get his face out of her mind; the dead look in his eyes, and the sardonic grin that had graced his lips before he'd taken the final plunge. Her pulse quickens as she remembers, and his fingers tighten against hers as her breathing becomes labored.

"He _hurt_ you, Veronica. He could've _killed_ you. He deserved everything he got." Tears prick her eyes, as she nods at his words, but she doesn't agree, not really.

"He was _16_, Logan. I don't forgive him for killing those kids. I don't think what he did was right, but god, he was just a kid." He's surprised at her glossing over of her rape. They haven't talked about it, she doesn't _want_ to talk about it, but he can tell that's what she's thinking of now.

"I'm...I'm glad you're Okay. With…it." He murmurs awkwardly as she pulls into her apartment complex, and puts the Le Baron into park. She nods, but she isn't listening, not really.

Dick is dead a week later. She hears the call come through on the police radio she'd swiped from Lamb's office the last time she was there, leaning to turn the volume up higher to here her mark's exact coordinates, but hearing of the disturbance at the Casablancas residence instead. There's a pit the size of Texas in her stomach as she calls Logan, because she _knows_.

"It's probably just a rager that got out of control, V. You know how Dick is." He mutters as he climbs into the car, his face as pale as her own, his bottom lip cracked and bleeding. He repeats the words, but she knows he doesn't believe them. Her hand grips his tightly, and for a moment he relaxes.

They arrive just in time to see Dick's body pulled out on a stretcher, his face bloody and mangled from the gun blast in his mouth, looking nothing like their friend at all. Logan opens his door, and for a moment she thinks he's running to see. She tries to stop him-this isn't something he should see up close, but he brushes her hand away, bending at the knees and retching on the side of the circular drive.

They find a note. It's scrawled in red ink on a cocktail napkin a few feet from where he'd fallen, the simple words embedding themselves forever into Veronica's soul.

_Beaver, I'm sorry._


End file.
